Hearing the frantic goatherd’s cry and before
We ran to help him raise her and she gamboled off
To dry in idyllic sun-drenched meadow, I tell you
Down there she’d been a drowning panicky
Blatting bobbing waterlogged pandemonium,
Dog-paddling round stony ring of death accompanied
By wide-eyed chorus of cacophonous frogs stoically croaking.
can see this in my Mind's Eye
ReplyDeleteeven now and from this great
distance hear sheep's bells
a camera would have been nice
to have had on that particular
walk on the rocky-hill trail back
from Pefcos... and the smell of
sheep dung ? thanks... as
what a poem provokes in reader's
memory & those fleeting images
are a solid plinth for a poem or a
painting/drawing to l e a p
out from:
no bout a doubt it !
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI can hear the drum, the cymbals and the Pan pipe running through this one. Sweet!
ReplyDeleteI love that chorus of stoic frogs. I'd like my own troupe to accompany the moments of serious panic.
ReplyDeleteNo pun intended and in all seriousness, we could baptize the troupe and call it "Panic Attack"!
ReplyDeleteThe way those wide-eyed frogs introduce an element of philosophical resignation (it seems they can't help their seeming stoic disposition, any more than they can help seeming wide-eyed, that's how they're made -- but still), just at the last minute, saves the day.
ReplyDeleteAha, a deus ex machina! I'm sure Euripides would have approved but as he was one of Aristophanes' favorite foils--exasperating, to say the least, especially when they carry on like this.
ReplyDelete